


Dreaming of dust from stars long faded

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Series: Warriors Main OCs writing collection [8]
Category: Warriors
Genre: AngstChildren, Contemplation, Dreams, FluffChildren, Gen, Grief, I have not written Warriors in awhile, Leaders live abnormally long lives in my headcanons, Mourning, My two OCs who border between platonic and romantic, OCs - Freeform, Save them, Third Person POV, depressed character, fears, just a fair warning it doesn't get too into it, so please excuse the mess, vaguely implied suicidal thought
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-26 22:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15011129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: He's agreed to stay, and become Leader in her place.But that doesn't mean his heart doesn't crack further every day that she's gone.





	Dreaming of dust from stars long faded

**Author's Note:**

> I return with my Children ;u;.
> 
> I hope to write more stuff with them, Spottedpath(/star), and Softwind soon.
> 
> Read my other stuff about them to make sense, please. Or don't. The other pieces just set up their relationship and background information.
> 
> Fun fact: Tigerstripe is my only character to ever contemplate suicide/death. I don't really like to do that, especially for fiction in sharing on the Internet, but I felt that he would feel this way. So I'll never do anything too. . . involved with the subject, especially because I don't want to trigger or offend anyone. Just know that he actually is this depressed.

_Dreaming Of Dust From Stars Long Faded_

* * *

  Tigerstar walked through the forest, forepaws dragging through dirt and getting dusty on top. It was a day where his tabby pelt and lighter underbelly were bedraggled; green eyes dull and lackluster.

    "I'm sorry, Fuffle," he mumbled to the breeze. "I just. . .couldnt today." His shoulders slump as he pauses, her loss weighing heavily upon him.

    He hadn't spoken to her since his nine lives ceremony, perhaps ten moons before. He was still in his first life - this life - already middle aged (though he had been physically older when he recieved them). He knew that if his lives weren't lost in the service of his Clan, then they would fade from age, each gap shorter than the rest.

    It was a long, lonely life.

    He hadn't wanted it.

    Why had he let her convince him to stay deputy?

     Nightshade, the current medicine cat, had had no messages for him. StarClan had been long quiet, their last message or sign having been his own ceremony.

    _I give you this life. . ._

    for what, Fuffles? For _what_.

   Dejected when he heard nor felt an answer, he got up, and trekked his way back to camp, promising himself that he would groom his pelt.

* * *

   Dreams. Slowly swirling darkness and starlight patches in blurred, illuminated orbs far away. Everything was cast in soft, dusty light; he looked down at his paws and saw how much paler colored they were.

   It was like he was viewing the world through spider-silk; a gauzy web wrapped around his head. Or like his eyes were those of a Monsters, spilling forth light on a rainy night as it crawled along the Thunderpath, it's bright gaze casting forth distorted light.

   Despite the thought ( _her eighth life, when she was hi-_ ) he felt safe. Calm. Lazily sitting there, bobbing amongst Silver-pelt.

   And yet. . .

   Even in this safe, warm place, his heart still ached. Faintly, granted, but it still hurt.

   He closed his eyes as liquid starlight fell from them.

* * *

 

   It was funny.

   Cats cannot cry, yet the rain and stars have both done it for him now, at least once.

* * *

 

    When Tigerstar wakes up the next day, his nose is full of the scent of dust in sunlight.

   For once. . .he doesn't feel too heavy. He's sore, surely. But he feels. . .lighter almost. Capable.

   He doesn't quite want to get up; his best feels cozy, and warm, like it used to when they would cuddle up together in gentle companionship. 

    But he also feels his responsibilities. Calling, waiting patiently.

    They don't feel like too much today - he actually wants to do stuff. The itch in his paws tingling up and throughout.

   Tigerstar heaves himself up, taking time to groom his pelt and stretch. He greets his clanmates, and watches Brackenheart organize patrols. Nightshade ignored him like usual but for once, he doesn't think about the death berries she keeps in her den for absolute emergencies.

   For once,

   for the first time in awhile,

he gazed up, up towards the sky, and then watched as kits play and tumble about, and apprentices training or leaving for training, their mentors in a range of emotions towards them-

   he sees his Clan moving, and living.

   And he allows himself to _breathe_.

**Author's Note:**

> If this runs weird at the beginning of the dream sequence, I got hit by my depression really bad so it may be wonky.


End file.
